Holy Sonnet 10: Death, Be Not Proud
John Donne
1572 to 1631
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
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